


Bohemia

by transmarkcohen



Category: La bohème - Puccini/Illica/Giacosa, Rent - Larson
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-05-24 18:21:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14959734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transmarkcohen/pseuds/transmarkcohen





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeadlinesBreadlinesBlowMyMind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadlinesBreadlinesBlowMyMind/gifts).



21 Agosto 1830

Cari Rodolfo,

Vi è molto da dire a Roma in questi giorni. È davvero valsa la pena di tre settimane di trek da Parigi-per le attrazioni e per quello che ho scoperto che ci sono state cercando. Quando ho raggiunto la grande cattedrale, sono stato accolto da un sacerdote-egli poteva vedere dentro la mia anima e ha letto la mia mente per dire il meno. Egli mi ha portato dal braccio e mi ha portato in una camera sul retro, aperto da una scorrevole in legno con pannelli-porta nella parte posteriore della cattedrale. La camera era poco illuminata e la luce risplendette dal sacerdote testa calva. A pochi wispy capelli grigi si è levato in piedi fuori. Le vesti toccò il pavimento e non ho potuto vedere i suoi piedi. Ho contemplato questo come ho notato che i miei stivali erano coperti di sporcizia-a piedi dalla Francia aveva fatto. Attraversando la Svizzera era piuttosto un cammino.  
Il sacerdote ha aperto un vano. Alzò un pannello a parete per rivelare it-una piccola bottiglia con un moto vorticoso di progettazione e di un tappo nella parte superiore di sughero. "Attenti", mi dice, "è quello che volete, ma fate attenzione a ciò che si può fare". I sacerdoti sono mistica nel modo di parlare. Non ho motivo di mettere in discussione questo punto. Ho stappato questo nostro santo Graal, il nostro vino spagnolo, e ho preso un sorso. Se il liquido è chiaro e il sapore è permeata di sapore. Il fuoco e il ghiaccio, caldo e freddo, spumanti molto simile il lussuoso di bibite gassate che esistono. Esso è la cosa migliore che io abbia mai preso parte del.  
Mi scuso per farlo prima di voi, senza di voi. Il sacerdote ha avvertito che ha creduto in me per avere rozzo intenzioni. Per quello che importa, la colpa non è mia.  
Io ritorno in tre settimane. Mi siedo in inn vado a come scrivo questa e come vorrei che tu fossi qui! Ho a lungo per la vostra azienda, il Vostro abbraccio, il tuo tocco, e forse che amore celeste che solo Dio e due di noi si deve testimoniare troppo.

La vostra,  
Marcello

 

                                                                               21 August 1830

 

My dear Rodolfo, 

 

   There is much to be said of Rome these days. It was indeed worth the three-week trek from Paris-for the sights and for that which I have found, which we have been looking for. When I reached the great cathedral, I was greeted by a priest-he could see inside my soul and he read my mind to say the least. He took me by the arm and led me to a room in the back, opened by a sliding wooden-paneled door in the back of the cathedral. The room was dimly lit and the light shone from the priest’s bald head. A few wispy gray hairs stood out. His robes touched the floor and I could not see his feet. I contemplated this as I noticed my boots were covered in dirt-walking from France had done that. Going through Switzerland was quite a journey.

    The priest opened a compartment. Lifted up a panel in the wall to reveal it-a small bottle, with a swirling design and a stopper in the top made of cork. “Careful,” he tells me, “It is what you want, but beware of what it can do.” Priests are mystical in how they talk. I have no reason to question this. I uncork this, our holy Grail, our Spanish wine, and I take a sip. Though the liquid is clear, the taste is imbued with flavor. Fire and ice, warm and chill, sparkling much like the luxurious sodas that exist. It is the best thing I have ever taken part of.

      I apologize for doing it before you, without you. The priest warned that he believed me to have uncouth intentions. For that matter, the blame is not mine. 

      I return in three weeks. I sit in the inn I am staying at as I write this, and how I wish you were here! I long for your company, your embrace, your touch, and perhaps that heavenly love that only God and the two of us shall bear witness to.

 

                                                                                                                 Yours,

     Marcello


	2. Chapter 2

29 août 1830

Cher Marcello,

Quelle est la grande nouvelle ! La réception de votre lettre, je me sentais plus de joie que j'avais dans la plus longue période de temps. Si l'on veut obtenir de nos désirs par une potion, qu'il en soit ainsi.  
Ou peut-être "désirs" n'est pas tout à fait exact. Notre désir commun, l'un. Ou… peut-être j'ai été au premier abord.  
Comme vous l'avez critiqué moi souvent, je suis indécis. Mais j'ai pris ma décision-oui, en effet, dans le cours de cette lettre-J'ai que deux désirs : vous, et la chose nous avons tous deux pour longtemps.  
Je ne le regrette pas, le blâme, ou vous gronder pour boire devant moi. La confiance est essentielle, une leçon que j'ai gardé à l'infidèle dans le passé. Et cela va rendre votre voyage plus sûr.  
J'ai soif de votre déclaration autant que j'ai de temps pour votre entreprise. À peine hors de la jalousie que peut-être un poète jaloux de ? Je suis de moyens simples. Une pièce d'or qui orne mes poches maintenant et puis ne fait pas de moi un roi, mais l'amour d'un peintre précis je n'ai pas besoin de nom, tel qu'il va lire ceci, me rend beaucoup plus qu'un empereur.  
Nous arrivons à ma raison de la langue française-c'est l'amour, n'est-ce pas ? En effet, la langue est un outil de plus du poète.  
J'imagine que vous comme vous êtes et plus.  
En terminant, je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime !

Votre poète,  
Rodolfo

30 août 1830

Peut-être que vous pensez me rend folle pour écrire deux fois dans la même semaine, mais je ne peux pas vous off mon esprit, mon amour, mon amant, mon cher, ma muse, ma grande inspiration, mon ami et au-delà, mes avances.  
Si ce n'étaient jamais pour conduire n'importe où je voudrais prendre cette route en un instant. Mon cher Marcel, Marcello, vous peignez la toile avec des couleurs et de ma vie avec la lumière et la plénitude. Vous brillez comme Sirius dans le ciel nocturne, comme les maisons le long de la Seine twinkle leurs lumières dans la rivière du crépuscule croissant et riverains de l'aube. Si je n'oubliera jamais vos lèvres-quelle douleur qui m'apporter ! Votre amour pour moi, il s'étend comme la mer sans fin, il grandit comme le vaste univers. J'ai retourner la faveur.  
Pour mon Marcello, mon propre, je ne pouvais pas imaginer autre chose que de t'aimer. Vous avez sauvé de la désespoir J'ai ressenti après mon dernier amour, m'ont amené à oublier le désespoir de notre humble la pauvreté.  
De retour bientôt. Pas de bois dans le poêle est facilement remplacé par la chaleur de ton étreinte.  
Et s'il vous plaît, mon cœur, retourn en toute sécurité.

-Rodolfo

29 August 1830

 

Dear Marcello,

  What great news! Receiving your letter I felt more joy than I had in the longest stretch of time. If we are to obtain our desires by a potion, so be it. 

  Or perhaps “desires” is not quite correct. Our one, shared desire. Or…perhaps I was right at first.

  As you have chastised me often, I am indecisive. But I have made up my mind-yes, indeed, in the course of this letter-I have only two desires: you, and the thing we both long for.

 I do not regret, blame, or chide you for drinking before me. Trust is essential, a lesson I have kept unfaithful to in the past. And this will make your journey safer. 

  I long for your return as much as I long for your company. Hardly out of jealousy-what can a poet have to be jealous of? I am of simple means. A gold coin gracing my pockets now and then hardly makes me a king, but the love of a specific painter I need not name, as he will read this, makes me far more than an emperor.

  We come to my reason for the language-French is love, is it not? Indeed, language is a poet’s greatest tool.

  I imagine you as you are and greater.

  In closing, I love you, I love you, I love you!

 

Your poet,

Rodolfo

 

                             30 August 1830

 

    Perhaps you think me mad for writing twice in the same week, but I cannot get you off my mind, my darling, my lover, my dear, my muse, my great inspiration, my friend and beyond, my courtship. 

    If this were ever to lead anywhere I would take that road in a heartbeat. My dear Marcel, Marcello, you paint canvas with colors and my life with light and wholeness. You shine as Sirius in the night sky, as the houses along the Seine twinkle their lights in the river growing from dusk and bordering on dawn. If I were to ever forget your lips-what pain that would bring me! Your love for me, it stretches as the endless sea, it grows as the vast universe. I return the favor.

    For my Marcello, my own, I could not imagine anything but loving you. You have saved me from the despair I felt after my last love, have caused me to forget the despair of our humble poverty.

   Return soon. No wood in the stove is easily replaced with the warmth of your embrace.

   And please, my heart, return safely.

  
-Rodolfo


	3. Chapter 3

24 Dicembre 1830

Per essere a prescindere da uno a Natale, come è terribile. Ma in realtà, abbiamo trascorso gli ultimi tre mesi insieme…e con alcuni nostri amici.  
Colline ha detto a me news-portato direttamente dalla Russia, attraverso la Polonia. Dobbiamo essere più attenti. Essi sono…critici nei confronti di alcuni tipi di amore. Del nostro corteggiamento.  
E dato che quando abbiamo curato per ciò che altri hanno pensato di noi e della nostra arte?  
Questo è il motivo per cui, in mezzo ai pericoli, intendo proporre.  
Cavolo, si potrebbe pensare che strano per me scrivere a proporre, ma io preferisco pensare a come…creative.  
Chiedo la vostra mano nel matrimonio.

-Marcel

 

24 December 1830

       To be apart from one at Christmas, how dreadful. But indeed, we spent the last three months together…and with certain friends of ours.

       Colline told me news-brought straight from Russia, through Poland. We must be more careful. They are…critical of certain types of love. Of our courtship.

       And since when have we cared for what others thought of us, of our art?   
       That is why, in the midst of danger, I am proposing.

       Cabbage, you may think it odd for me to write to propose, but I prefer to think of it as…creative.

       I ask your hand in marriage.

  
-Marcel


	4. Chapter 4

31 Dicembre 1830

  
Quale risposta che ci si aspetta da me ma sì? Sì! Sì, la mia gioia e la mia vita, il mio nulla.

-Rodolfo

31 December 1830

  
  


What answer would you expect from me but yes? Yes! Yes, my joy, my life, my anything.

 

-Rodolfo


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

18 aprile 1845

              Quindici anni e non sembri un giorno più di venti ... non solo per me, ma per tutti gli altri. Il metodo ha funzionato, anzi. Ho riflettuto sulla nostra decisione. Un uomo è morto nelle strade di Monaco ieri. Bolle coprivano il suo corpo e la sua tosse tradiva la flemma. Sembrava davvero che ... Non voglio riviverlo. Naturalmente sto parlando di assistere all'evento, poiché entrambi sappiamo che nessuno di noi lo vivrà fisicamente.  
     Stavo pensando. Soprattutto in quello che sarà il prossimo secolo. Che cosa straordinaria che entrambi potremo sperimentare. Insieme.  
Leggendola, le mie parole suonano tronfie, stantie, e vorrei solo che le stavo dicendo di persona.  
Ci rivedremo presto. Non mi preoccuperò

-Marcel

18 April 1845

 

            Fifteen years and you don’t look a day over twenty…not only to me, but to everyone else. The method worked, indeed. I have been contemplating our decision. A man died in the streets in Munich yesterday. Boils covered his body and his coughing betrayed the phlegm. It indeed looked as if…I do not want to relive it. Of course I am talking about witnessing the event, as we both know that neither of us will live it physically.

I have been thinking. Especially in the way of what the next century will be like. What an amazing thing that we will both get to experience it. Together. 

Reading this over, my words sound stilted, stale, and I only wish I was saying them in person.

We will meet again soon. I will not worry.

 

-Marcel


	6. Chapter 6

20 mai 1860  
Champagne  
Nous avons besoin de lait  
-Rodolfo

 

20 May 1860  
Champagne

We need milk

-Rodolfo


	7. Chapter 7

15 October 1893

Venice

 

a quick note

i need not code

we must

obtain 

new identities

 

from Marcel


	8. Chapter 8

8 January 1900

 

The turn of the century! How grand it feels. To be ninety and not look a day over twenty…you are more handsome than ever, painter.

     This past anniversary was fraught with delight. And may I speak of that night? Or would you rather...poetic terms?

      In all truth, Marcel, to have been with you for sixty-nine is amazing, comedic, and...oh, did I mention I love you?

      I love you. 

 

                                          -Rodolphe


	9. Chapter 9

12 May 1910

 

     I stand firm in my decision and name change, as well as my current standing on not parlaying with you. 

     If we are to keep this up, if we shall live forever, we cannot be the same as we always have. We must change with time. And that includes changing somewhat crucial parts of ourselves. 

     I know you're angry at me. I know I'm angry at you. 

     But whatever you choose-Rodolfo or Rodolphe or Rudolphe or that new name you've been considering-I will stand by you, as I always have, and I will mark your legacy. Whatever that means, in whatever way. 

    I've always had a fondness for puns. 

                                                 -Mark


	10. Chapter 10

31 January 1930

 

     Dear Roger,

 

       A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Isn’t that how the old Shakespeare goes?   
       But unfortunately, I am not writing this letter under romantic circumstances. Far from it. I wish that were the case, that I could discuss our anniversary or that wondeful new restaurant near La Vie. 

       I have heard rumors-of dictators rising and people dying and war on the horizon. I believe our safest bet is to leave Europe.

       We’ll need to start saving up. Pack as much as we are able. Some things…are too old to take with us now. But mementos, reminders of our companions, our dear old friends who chose to stay in 1830….

       Take them with you. I could not possibly leave them behind.

       I desperately wish I could say more in this letter. We are not as unsafe in France as we would be in Italy, but there are censors. Guards. Watching every citizen’s move, making sure not one betray them.

       It feels like 1832 all over again. June. And the students protesting.

       Hopefully this time we will survive, we will win, and we will change things for the better. In the meantime, we will move to America by summer.

 

-Mark  


	11. Chapter 11

10 May 1939

Mark-

I wish you hadn't been right. America is...nice, but...

Italia erano migliore. 

I wish we could go back there.

I suppose we can't ever go back to that now.

Or our friends there.

I don't regret writing such a depressing letter.

You will have to deal with this.

-Roger

P.S. Ti amo, ma puoi essere una seccatura. 


	12. Chapter 12

12 April 1945 

Finally. 

If only you were back home! 

I miss you so dearly. 

Come back to me soon, my love. 

Je t’aime beaucoup, 

Mark 


End file.
